Crushed
by IrrationallySpeaking
Summary: What will Booth and Brennan's life be like after he turns her down? Set directly after the last scene in the finale.
1. Chapter 1

Brennan felt the tears fall as she turned to walk up the stairs. There was no holding back. She was upset, it was irrational, but she was. _I thought this was what he wanted_, she thought. "All I wanted was for you to be happy," she said out loud, not to anyone in particular because well, there was no one. She leant against the door to her and Booth's room, the tears still falling. She wanted them to stop, but she wasn't going to force them away. She bit her lip to try and silence the already silent sobs, piercing her lip doing so.

Opening the door, she entered the room and looked around at what her life had become. She wasn't alone. Booth's words were still ringing in her head, they wouldn't go away. _I don't think we should do it_. She let out a laugh. A sad laugh. More sobs followed and she wished for nothing else but for them to go away. She walked into the adjoining bathroom and took a look at herself in the mirror. She noticed that her lip was cut. She grabbed a soft cloth from under their sink; it was one that she usually used on Christine. Booth always told her to use regular ones, that a baby's face wouldn't always be soft and pampered and that Christine should get adjusted early. But Brennan didn't even like using the rough cloths they had on her own face, why should her daughter suffer? _Stop it Temperance_, she thought to herself. _But why should I stop?_ She questioned. "Because I'm angry at him," she said out loud to no one again.

"No, I'm not angry I didn't even want this," she responded to herself. _This is nonsense, why am I conversing with myself?_ "He's the one who believes in marriage, this is ludicrous." She looked at herself in the mirror, and stood up straighter. She shouldn't be sad, and she decided that she wouldn't be. She wiped her tears away, as they had finally ceased flowing. After removing the cloth from her warm lips, she turned on the tap and rubbed the cold water over them. She opened the cupboard above the toilet and grabbed the lip chap. She noticed it wasn't hers; it was Booth's. _I never understood why he needed lip chap_, she pondered, _although I am grateful because it makes his lips so soft, quite feminine actually_. She laughed at the thought. Again it was another uncomfortable laugh.

After rubbing the balm over her lips, she took a look, a really good look, at her face. It was red from the tears, and her eyes were red as well. She sighed and shut the light off, closing the door behind her. She sat down on their bed, oddly on Booth's side. She grabbed his pillow and brought it up to her chest. She held it so tight to her it might have 'popped open' in the language of Booth. She leaned down and shoved her face into it. She inhaled the scent and enjoyed that it reeked of his hair gel.

She wasn't keeping track of the time. It seemed pointless, really. But some time must have passed because when she looked up from the pillow Booth was standing in their doorway; staying in the hallway as if asking her permission to enter. He looked disheveled. She could tell he'd been crying. He wouldn't admit it, and she wouldn't ask. She'd never seen Booth shed a tear, she'd seen the aftermath, but never the action. He looked at her with so much sympathy Brennan could have swore her heart was in her throat. Realizing that she was still holding onto his pillow, she put it down in its rightful place. She looked back up and Booth hadn't moved from his original position. Brennan wondered how long he must have been standing there until she noticed him. She tilted her head to the left, as she always did, when something didn't make sense to her. Her brow furrowed as she questioned why Booth was still standing in place of their door.

"Booth?" She said softly.

Then she saw it; the tear. The one lone tear threatening to escape him. She stood up slowly and walked toward Booth. She stopped so that his crossed arms were millimetres away from her breasts. She looked up at him but he did not return the action.

He stared above her; it was easy to do since he was taller. But nothing was easy about the action. _I can't even look at her, what kind of man am I?_ He thought. She was so close he felt her breath on his neck. The threatening tear escaped his eye and Booth felt so powerless. _Bones would probably 'say that makes no sense'_, he thought.

Brennan reached up and wiped his tear away. She'd never done that before, to anyone. Booth's already uneasy breath hitched. He didn't think she would do something like that. Before he could stop himself he blurted, "Bones, don't."

"Don't what, Booth?"

"I- I don't know." He said defeatedly.

"Booth, I," she said uneasily, "I know you're upset. But you- you need to understand that, that I am- I'm not."

Booth felt like he had been shot. She wasn't; she couldn't. She can't do this. "Bones, I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

"Don't be, Booth."

"But I am!" he said louder than either thought he would.

Brennan looked at him in shock that he had just yelled at her, but then she noticed it. She could smell it. Alcohol. His breath reeked of the stench. "Booth..." she said lightly.

"I'm sorry..." he barely said above a whisper as his head surrendered to her shoulder. Brennan almost fell over at the impact. He was drunk. She realized it now. But he wasn't just drunk, not even relatively drunk; he was overly intoxicated. She shivered at the thought of how much he might have had to drink.

"Booth, you need to lay down." She said to the man she thought of as her husband just merely hours ago.

"No... m'fine" he mumbled.

"Booth you're drunk."

He looked up at Brennan, there was something in his eyes and it wasn't love. "I am not a drunk" he rebelled.

"Booth, you've had too much to drink, come on." She walked the wobbly Booth to his side of the bed. He plopped down on the bed, looking up at Brennan like he was a child. Brennan couldn't handle it; it was reminding her of Christine. It reminded her of them; together. She was still angry at Booth, she remembered. _No wait, I'm not angry,_ she told herself. _Yes you are,_ her mind rebelled. "Just lay down Booth." He did as asked and Brennan tore his shoes off. "Take off your pants" she instructed. She had firsthand experience of how uncomfortable it was to sleep in jeans. "Why?" he questioned.

"Just do it" she said tiredly. She didn't like Booth when he was drunk. Yes, most of the time it was a happy drunk, but he was still drunk. This drunk he was now though, it scared her. She'd never seen him like this before.

Booth fumbled foolishly with his button until Brennan lost her patience and undid them for him. "Whoa, not tonight Bones" he said. Did he really think she was trying to engage in intercourse with him? Now? After what just happened? For lack of better words, Brennan found herself saying 'yeah right' internally. She pulled the pants off him and he did everything he could to resist. An intoxicated Booth was not a cooperative Booth. She pulled his socks off next, but Booth didn't really seem to notice. Next she moved to his shirt. She realized the difficulty in taking it off while he was lying down, so she decided to tell him to sit up. After what seemed like a whine, Booth finally did so.

Brennan reached for the hem of his shirt and Booth put his hand on the small of her back, forcing her closer to him. "Booth" she said breathlessly. He just looked up at her expectantly. Brennan was scared. She knew it was irrational; Booth would never hurt her, but what if Booth slipped up just once? What if he remembered back to when his father beat him when he was drunk and he just let it out on her? She shook at the thought. She shouldn't be thinking so poorly of Booth.

She let go of his shirt and plied his hand off of her. "Booth, no." She said firmly. Booth just looked up at her with the same expectant look. Brennan shook it off, and grabbed the hem of his shirt again. He didn't put up a fight, to which she was surprised. Pulling it over his head, she inspected his body.

Booth hated when she did this. When she looked at him like he- like he was a set of remains on her slab. He noticed Brennan look down at the scar just under his pant line because for some reason his boxers weren't pulled up all the way. He leant his hand up to her head, and pushed her beautiful face to him with the pad of his thumb. She knew he hated it when she looked at his scars. But she really didn't like that one, and he'd never explained to her what happened to him. She knew the reason for every other one, but not that one.

Booth bore his tired drunken eyes into hers and Brennan returned the stare with affection. "I know you're sad, Temperance" he mumbled. "It's- it's okay to be sad."

"I'm sad too..." he just continued on. "I'm also really sorry."

"Booth, we can- we can talk about this later" she didn't know why she felt like crying, and Booth never called her Temperance. He only did when she was upset, but Brennan thought she was quite adept at hiding her pain, especially now. What did he see in her that she couldn't even see?

"M'kay" he replied emotionless.

Brennan laid him back down, and made sure he was on his side before she left him to get changed. Booth passed out before Brennan even had her shirt off. Opening the drawer which contained her pajamas, she grabbed her favourite pair; a pair that Booth that bought her no less. She sighed as she threw them on, closing the drawer. She glanced over at Booth, noticing that he was no longer conscious. She walked over to the lightswitch right beside the doorframe and stood still. She thought to herself, _I don't know who to fault. Was I thinking irrationally? Was I just blinded by my love for him? Were neither of us ready? Is this all my fault? Or Pelant's? Or Booth's?_ She shook her head. Her eyes became damp again. She didn't want to put the blame on someone, but Booth always said people felt better when there was someone to blame. Although usually when he said that, he was talking about murderers. Brennan wasn't a murderer. She'd killed, but that didn't make her one, did it? The thoughts of a troubled mind raced through her. She still stared at the lightswitch. Instinctively, she reached to flip it down, but then thought better.

She left the light on. She realized for the first time, that she wasn't tired. She took one last look at her man; she smiled unconsciously, _her man_. She turned her head back so that it was facing in front of her, and walked out of their room. She knew Booth wouldn't be waking anytime soon, so she decided to get some time to herself before they- before they had to talk.

She turned into Christine's room and just looked at her child. She was beautiful, Booth said she was going to be a looker; Brennan didn't know what that meant, but judging by the look on Booth's face she knew it must have been a good thing. The tears still threatening to escape her eyes, she looked around the room and her eyes were caught right above her daughter's head. At Parker's contraption. She couldn't remember what it was called, but she knew that she and Booth loved it. Walking over to the crib she kissed her daughter's forehead. She let out an uneasy breath and she shed a tear.

Walking out of the room, she finally set on her destination. She walked slowly down the stairs, like a child, as she made sure both feet were on a stair until progressing towards the next one. Trying to ease her breaths back into the range of being normal, she finally reached the bottom. She turned to their living room and just stared blankly at where she had been sitting just hours ago. She felt a wave of emotion rush over her, but she didn't let the tears fall. No. This wasn't her fault. This wasn't Booth's fault. This was Pelant's fault. She didn't know why but it was. There. She did it. She placed the blame.

She walked over to Booth's chair. She never knew why he liked it so much, it wasn't very comfortable. And she was quite confused now as to why she was sitting in it. After what felt like collapsing into the chair, she finally let her tense muscles relax. She sat in the chair, trying not to ponder through her thoughts. Her mind was the center of her being, but sometimes, that caused her the most pain. _Are we okay?_ Booth's words shot through her mind. She said she they were. But both of them knew they weren't. Their separation proved that. She knew she shouldn't be sad; it was foolish of her to ever agree to such an archaic relationship. They didn't need marriage, they needed love, and that was what they had wasn't it? She loved him, and he loved her back. Right? This was the first time Brennan doubted their relationship. She knew Booth wouldn't approve, hell, she didn't even approve, but her mind always went places it wasn't supposed to enter.

It was dangerous, her mind. It could be used as a tool, but it could also be used as a weapon. Right now, she wasn't sure _what_ it being used as. It was betraying her, is what it was doing. It was allowing her to doubt things she'd been so sure of merely hours ago. _I love Booth, and that's all it takes right?_ She questioned herself. Right know she didn't know what their relationship would be in the morning. Sure, Booth would try and make things better, but would they really ever be better? They were both upset, angry- but why was Booth angry? _He_ was the one who turned _her_ down, she was supposed to be angry, not him. She let those thoughts leave her mind; she'd ask Booth tomorrow when they were both sure that he was no longer 'hungover'.

Brennan let out another heavy sigh and turned her mind off. She brought her knees up to her chest and her arms encircled them. She leaned her head to the chair and closed her eyes. She wasn't tired but she knew she needed sleep. She didn't really want to see Booth right now, after all she promised herself to not be sad, so she wasn't. But she was sure as hell allowed to be angry. Before she knew it, her body entered unconsciousness and her body fell limp. She didn't dream that night. But what she didn't know, was that she wouldn't be dreaming for a lot of nights.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello guys! Thank you so much for continuing through this story. It'll be a ride for all of us, and I hope you enjoy! I'm not going to pressure you to review, but if you think something needs to be said, go ahead and tell me! Xo**

Booth woke up and was hit hard with last night. He remembered all of it. The denial, the crying, and the case of beer. The _whole _case of beer. Those- those twelve cans of beer. He was angry last night but, but he didn't have to drink all the cans. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself, and sat up. Well, he tried to sit up. His head was spinning from his hangover and pains were shooting all through him. _What_ _have I done to myself?_ He shook his head in anger and disbelief.

He suddenly felt rage. Why did he do this? How could he do this? _Shit._ "Bones!" He turned his head and no one was there. _Where could she be? Did I- No! I wouldn't... I couldn't..._ Not caring that he couldn't see straight, he bounded out of their room. He ran to Christine's and saw that she was still sound asleep. His heart lifted in his chest. _Jesus, I didn't hurt her. No. I couldn't hurt her. Never. I would never... Bones._ That was who was important right now. If she shut herself away already, Booth would never get her back. Funny, a memory triggered in his mind.

_Booth and Cam sat at the Founding Father's, drinking themselves silly. Shot after shot, Booth finally found the courage, although it may be liquid courage, to tell Cam how he was feeling. Finally, he turned to Cam and said "All right, um. That place I went to. You know, in my coma dream, it was just- Bones and I were so real..."_

"_You're in love with Doctor Brennan." Cam shot out. It wasn't even a question. She knew the truth, the others knew the truth, and although she was happy that Booth wasn't blind to his feelings anymore she couldn't help but feel sad. Booth had been hers. Twice. And she lost him both times. Maybe she was just the wrong girl for him, but he was the right man for her. Hell, Booth was the right man for everyone. He was just so... Perfect. She smiled to hide her pain, and saw Booth's terrified look. She continued on, "My advice, for what it's worth, forget the bruised brain and go with the lion heart." That man did have a lion heart. When he loved, he loved with everything he had. She knew, well sort of. _

_The first time they had been together, Booth gave her everything she wanted. But when they had their relationship back at the lab, they kept it a secret. Neither really spoke about it, but they knew why. Well at least she knew why. He'd been in love with Brennan since the start. Yes, he may have loved Cam, but there was a time for that, and that time unfortunately, had ended. Booth's love for Brennan was obviously eternal, and for that Cam was envious of the clueless Doctor. She respected Brennan on a very high level, but seeing them dance around like this made her angry at times. If they couldn't see it now, who could be so sure that they'd see it later? She knew it was wrong, but she wanted Booth. She'd get over it, but she knew deep down inside a part of her would always love him. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, Cam came out of her trance and looked at Booth. Staring back at her, he said "Right. Right. Yeah, and uh, tell Bones how I feel?" It sounded more like a question than Booth had wanted it to be. _

_Cam smiled at his nervousness, "Yes. Except be sure about your feelings. Because if you crack that shell, and change your mind, she'll die of loneliness before she'll ever trust anyone again."_

_Booth looked at her sympathetically, and Cam smiled once again. She knew she was the master at hiding feelings, and she also knew she was the master at keeping company. "You'll do fine, Booth" was the last thing she said before they took another shot. _

Booth shook at the memory. Brennan let him in and he betrayed her. She'd been like an egg; once cracked, everything came pouring out. It wasn't until now Booth had realized that shell hadn't cracked until recently. Only recently had she been forthcoming to him about her feelings. It hadn't started until she came back from on the run. It's funny; Booth hadn't even been with her when her shell was broken. He wondered what led her to break, because he obviously hadn't been there. When she opened up to him in the laundry room, he didn't know how to react so he instinctively kissed her. Booth couldn't believe how stupid he'd been to think he'd cracked her before. It's been too soon. She'd cracked, and not even a year later he broke her heart. _The heart cannot be broken, Booth,_ his inner Brennan told him, _you've only crushed my heart. It's okay, I'm fine. Alone._ He shuddered at the newest memory.

Booth couldn't take it anymore. His still pounding head led him towards the stairs. He had to find Bones. Wobbling down the stairs, he was sure the neighbours could hear the pounding of his feet on the wood, he was so disoriented. Finally reaching the bottom, he steadied himself against the wall. After what seemed like minutes, he brought himself around the wall to look into their living room. That's when he saw her. In _his_ chair. Booth walked up to her slowly and softly, well however soft a hungover man could walk. His first instinct was to check her face. That's where his father always struck first. He held his breath as he checked his sleeping wife's- _wait she isn't my wife_. "Dammit" Booth said in a whisper.

Brushing the hair out of her face, he inspected it and saw no marks. He exhaled loudly; he knew he would never hurt her. He just had to be sure... That was when he saw the glimmer. He saw the beer cans. He couldn't have Brennan knowing how much he drank. He walked over to the cans, shoving them all back into the box. The empty twelve-pack seemed unbelievably heavy in his arms. Opening the door that led into their garage, he chucked the case so that it hid behind their snow-blower. Closing the door behind him, he walked back into the living room. He looked at Brennan. _She's so beautiful when she sleeping_, he thought. _Scratch that, she's beautiful all the time._ He sat down in her chair, since she was occupying his.

Brennan was awake, but Booth didn't know. She didn't want to open her eyes, at least not yet. She'd woken when Booth collected the cans. She hadn't seen them last night, and she didn't bother to go find them. She heard him put away at least ten cans and that scared her. So she decided she didn't want to be awake just yet. She'd heard him throw the case, but she didn't know where, and really didn't want to. She heard him sit down, and focused herself on his unsteady breathing. He was breathing much like a child; short, fast breaths. This also scared Brennan.

She decided to open her eyes, and she saw his big, empty brown ones staring back at hers. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what to say. She sat up straight in her chair, removing eye contact from Booth. _I'm still angry_, something inside reminded her. She looked down at her feet. "Good morning" she mumbled.

"Yeah, a good one..." Booth said, still staring at her even though she looked away. He wanted nothing but to tell her, that this wasn't his fault. That this was all Pelant. That he wanted nothing more in this world but to be married to the love of his life. But he couldn't.

An alert Brennan heard the tone of his voice and knew he wanted to say something. "What?" she asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What do you want to tell me?" Brennan said, still looking at her feet.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I don't know what you're talking about."

"The tone of your voice would indicate that you have something to say to me so you might as well say it." She snapped back at him and stood up. She began to walk into their kitchen, not even bothering to look back at Booth. She was angry and she wasn't going to make this easy for him.

"Bones!" he said back to her. He wasn't going to yell. He didn't want to; he couldn't. He chased her into the kitchen and grabbed her right hand. Brennan froze in her tracks. "What do you want to say, Booth?" she said again. Booth turned her around so that she could look at him; except she wouldn't. "Bones... please?" he pleaded. Brennan stared at his shoulder. Normally in this circumstance Booth would pull her face to him, but he was afraid an action like that would be his last. He wanted to tell her so badly that he wanted her. He wanted everything about her. He wanted to prove to her how much he wanted her; but he couldn't. Suddenly Booth knew what to say. "Temperance, please?"

Brennan could hear how emotionally strained his voice was. He sounded like- he sounded like he did last night. _Damn_, she thought. He knew Temperance always got her. She finally looked up at him and she could see the dampness in his eyes. "Please... just don't call me that." Brennan replied.

"I'm sorry."

"No. You're not."

"Bones, how could you say that? You don't even know how I'm feeling right now!"

"If you knew you'd be sorry after telling me we shouldn't engage in marriage than you shouldn't have said anything at all, Booth!" she spat back at his face. "You shouldn't have pressured me into even thinking about the idea. You knew how much I didn't want it! And then you forced me, Booth. You forced me!" she jabbed her finger into his chest. She was done blaming Pelant, this was all Booth's fault now.

Booth just stared at her, his jaw dropped down as low as it would go. "Bones..." he was able to let out.

"No. I don't want to hear it, Booth." She unravelled herself from his embrace. She started to walk away from him when he grabbed her arms again. "Let go of me Booth or I will roundhouse kick you in the head." They both knew she wasn't lying.

Brennan darted up the stairs, running to their room. She slammed the door as hard as she could to make her anger noticed. She then ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

The slamming door obviously awoke Christine and she started crying. A shocked Booth ran up to her room and grabbed her out of the crib. Christine almost never cried, and this worried Booth. She was obviously startled, but it was like whenever something happened to Brennan she began to cry. The last time he recalled her crying was when Brennan was shot in the lab. Booth bounced her up and down and sang some nonsense to her. He was an awful singer, but it seemed to calm her down. Christine eventually looked up to her father and said nothing but "Dada."

"I'm here, baby." Booth cooed back to her. He held her close to him and decided it was probably best for him to not go ask Brennan what the hell is wrong. He brought Christine down the stairs and to the kitchen. He grabbed her bottle out of the fridge and warmed it up in the microwave. When Christine became fussy again, Booth started to bounce her up and down again warbling Hot Blooded. Christine started at her father begging for more. He didn't know why, but she liked his singing. "Well, okay..." he started, "I'm hot blooded, check it and see! I got a fever of a hundred and three. Come on baby! You can do more than dance! I'm hot blooded, hot blooded!" he sang the last 'hot blooded' a little too loud. Finally the microwave beeped and he pulled out Christine's bottle. He never understood why babies like warm milk, he tried it once, and it was awful. Putting the bottle in her hands, Christine shoved it into her mouth. Although he didn't approve of the taste, Booth always loved the sound of babies sucking on their bottles. It reminded him that they were actually _here_. That they weren't just imaginary, that they were really alive; that they were beings. Still bouncing Christine up and down he noticed for the first time that he was in nothing but his underwear. He slightly blushed. He was too disoriented earlier to even notice that he wasn't wearing any clothes.

Walking the two back up the stairs, Booth dared to enter his and Brennan's room. Turning the door handle, he walked in silently. He didn't see Brennan anywhere, so she must have been in the bathroom. "Bones?"

There was a pause before anything was said. "Leave, Booth." Brennan said barely above a whisper. She'd been crying. In the time she was in the bathroom her rage progressed into sadness.

"You know I'm not."

"I said get out."

"No." He rebelled. "You may be behind that door, but you can't stay there forever. When you decide to come out I'll be right here-" he paused "I'm not moving."

"My daughter needs tending to."

"_Our_. _Our_ daughter. And she's in my arms."

Brennan said nothing. There was nothing to say. Actually, there was a lot to say but she didn't want to say it.

"We'll be right here when you're ready to come out."

"I know you, Booth. You'll get bored. You'll leave."

"And I know you. You'll get fidgety and need to get out of there."

"No. I'm fine in here."

"And I'm fine out here," he chuckled to himself, "I guess we don't know each other that well, do we?"

"I guess we don't." Brennan said bitterly.

After what seemed was hours, but was merely only minutes, Brennan indeed became fidgety. She twiddled her thumbs, played with her greasy hair which was in need of a clean. _That's it,_ she thought, _I'll have a shower_. And that's what she did.

The shower turning on startled Booth and Christine. Booth took this time to put Christine back in her crib. He sat her down, and worked his way back to their room. He knew what he was going to do, and he knew Brennan wasn't going to like it. Booth walked up to the bathroom door and was determined to open it. It was easy to open when it was locked. Parker had locked the door by accident before, and all Booth had to do was jiggle the handle. That's exactly what he was going to do now.

Booth jiggled the handle until he heard the click and slowly opened it. Brennan obviously didn't hear him because the shower was too loud for her to notice. Booth left the door open, and Brennan felt a cold breeze. She looked through her shower curtain and saw Booth. She gasped as she saw him just standing there. "Booth..." she said breathlessly, "what- what are you doing? Get out!"

"No." Was all he said.

"Booth I don't want to talk about it, and I would greatly appreciate it if you got out." Brennan said, trying to stay calm.

"Well I want to talk about it."

"And I said I don't, so leave."

"You do. I know you do." Booth said leaning against the sink.

"Booth I am extremely uncomfortable with you being in here right now, and seeing as I don't even know how you got in here, because the door was locked, you never asked and I want you gone."

_I want you gone_. The words rang like gongs in Booth's head.

Brennan misinterpreted Booth's silence as a leave of absence. "Go." She repeated. To her surprise, Booth shut the lid on the toilet and sat down. "I said I wasn't leaving and I'm not" was all he could muster up.

Brennan was losing patience. "Booth I said. Get. Out."

"No."

"Yes."

"No." He crossed hi arms.

"Booth get the fuck out!"

Her rage surprised both of them. "Bones... Come on, this- this isn't rational."

"Says the man who is the least rational person on the planet." She retorted.

"Bones, I-" he paused "I'm not going to say I'm sorry because you obviously aren't accepting that, what I am going to say is that you're sorry."

She wasn't taking this. "And why would I be sorry?" she barked.

"Because you think this is your fault."

"Booth, could you be any more naive?! This is all your fault!"

_Jesus, here we go_. "No. That's what you're trying to tell yourself. You're telling yourself that it's my fault because you don't want to believe it's yours. And that big brain of yours isn't helping either, is it? It keeps screaming at you that you caused this and what I'm trying to tell you is that... You didn't cause this. It's not your fault, Bones. You need to believe that. And- and it's not my fault either."

Brennan stood in silence, her tears blending in with the drops of water falling on her. She still couldn't see him, and he couldn't see her. Right now she was glad Booth pushed her to getting the burgundy shower curtain. Her tears fell freely. "And Bones I know you don't want to hear it, but, it's okay to be sad. I know you're trying to be angry, but do you know what anger is? Anger is just fear being afraid of itself. It's okay to cry, and you know, it's okay to talk about your feelings."

And with that, Booth left. He'd said all he needed to, and he traced his way back to Christine's room.

But Brennan wasn't done. Not even close. She promised to herself that she wouldn't make it easy and she wouldn't. She knew exactly what she was going to say.


End file.
